Where We Are
by serpentineinfinity
Summary: A one-shot sequel to A State of Grace, where Elsa reflects on how much her life has changed now that Anna (Annika) is once again in it. Set a couple of years from the point where A State of Grace ended, and still from Elsa's POV. Elsanna


Well, it took a little while but…here it is. The sequel to _A State of Grace_ , although with how short it is, I guess it's a little more epilogue-like. Anyway, if you didn't read _A State of Grace_ (which I really would suggest reading first), this is really important— 'our' Anna, as in the Elsanna Anna, is really Annika, and Annika means grace. The other Anna is Elsa's daughter. I know that probably made absolutely no sense, but it will once you start reading :)

And the usual: I don't own Frozen. Or any of its characters.

* * *

 **Where We Are**

* * *

 _Our house is loud_.

It's such a simple phrase. Prefaced by one of the most commonly used words, yet somehow, one of the most profound.

Our house is loud.

Our house is loud, and disorganized, and chaotic, and hectic, and busy, and messy, and _all_ of these qualities, I do believe, go against everything that I have ever wanted my house to become.

But…it's our house.

Not my house.

 _Our_ house.

Our house, where the craziness is not only bearable, but welcome. Where the adjective of 'loud' entails excited conversations, Saturday night movies, music, countless stories, and laughter. Where empty promises and lingering regrets have almost all been left behind.

Where I am no longer alone in the summer.

It's where when I say, " _Anna_! Why in the world is there a box of _kittens_ in the laundry room!?" two people come running, and where I am reluctantly convinced that it's a wonderful idea to have four rescued felines bounding nonstop across the floor.

It's where Polish is spoken across the table at dinner because somehow it's hilarious that I can't understand it, snowmen of all shapes and sizes adorn the lawn in the winter, and chocolate is not just a dessert, but a staple so necessary that it is inconspicuously incorporated into all three meals of the day.

It's where I am happy.

She moved in not long after our first date at Oaken's, and a year after that, we got married.

It does get rather confusing living in the same house with two people who share a name, so sometimes I still call her Annika.

Sometimes, it's Anna Grace. But she doesn't mind.

And the most important thing is that she and Anna seem to be getting along well.

Actually, if I'm being honest, they're practically the same person—so much so that sometimes I think she gets along with Anna even better than I do. But that's fine.

Because no matter how similar or different each one of us is, we are together.

And for once, I can say for a fact that everything is okay.

But I know that change will come eventually. It's uncontrollable, and it's inevitable, and my first reminder is that Anna will be graduating high school in a year. She's already started looking at colleges, and so far, we've visited two.

We keep asking her what she thinks she wants to major in, and her response is always that she's undecided.

But in a way, I think that's a good thing.

If there's anything I've learned, it's to keep our options open; not to close doors on opportunities that we think will never arise just because they seem too impossible to reach.

I don't want her to make the mistakes that I did. I don't want her to settle for what others want and expect from her, because regret is one of the darkest burdens to carry, and I never want her to have to experience that the way that I did.

In essence, I want her to be more like her namesake.

More like Anna.

Anna Grace.

Annika.

And maybe that's why it comforts me that they get along so well.

But I had nothing to worry about, truthfully. Annika is a wonderful mother—although technically she's a stepmother. But it doesn't feel that way at all. Frankly, it seems to be the total opposite because it feels as though we've been together for as long as I can remember. Our relationship is one that has changed drastically over time, yet somehow, always manages to string itself back together.

And I like that.

I _love_ that—and all of the joy that it has brought into my life.

I love that I can go out to dinner with her. I love that I can hold her hand. I love spending my days with her, sharing practically everything with her, and waking up to her by my side every morning—even if the alarm does go off at five. I love being able to make her laugh, I love being able to make her smile, and I love that the simplest little things can still cause her face to turn the color of her vibrant red hair.

I love her.

And I remind her of that every chance I get.

On one particular evening when our daughter is out with her friends, and we are both left alone, Annika (well, just Anna for the time being, since there won't be any confusion for at least a few hours) tells me she's going to make dinner.

Normally I'm the one who makes dinner—cooking isn't Anna's forte unless the main ingredient is chocolate—so I'm a bit surprised.

"Are you sure?" I ask, "Because really it's no big deal for me to do it."

Anna only smiles, "I want to."

"Then by all means," I smile in return, "The kitchen is yours."

It doesn't take her long to make the meal she's planned, which surprises me just as much as the fact that she's offered in the first place. And even though I'm sitting on the sofa in front of the television, she brings my plate to me before sitting down beside me.

And on it is…a cheesesteak.

Forget about how she's managed to make it. Suddenly I am transported back in time—back to the time that I took her to the mall—realizing that much like my previous reluctance towards having chocolate, I also haven't had a cheesesteak since.

She can tell where my thoughts have gone and she says, "I know I told you before that we should just leave the past behind us. But…today is a day I don't think I could ever forget."

For a moment, I'm slightly confused, and I'm not entirely sure where she's headed with this.

But then again, she's always so full of surprises.

She speaks again, but more quietly than before, "All those years ago _today_ you took me to that mall. Sometimes it takes me a minute to realize that it really was that long ago. I know I don't feel that old but…" she trails off here and then starts again with a small smile, "That's not the main point here. What I'm trying to say is that even though it _was_ such a long time ago, I remember it so clearly. And that's because it was the day I realized that you made me happy, and that you meant everything to me, and that you were the one that I wanted to be with even if it was next to impossible," her voice becomes even softer, and she can barely look at me, "That was the day that I realized I loved you, Elsa."

Her words, although spoken so softly, have quite an impact. And for once, I have nothing to say.

I don't know _how_ to answer her.

Because when did I realize that I loved her?

When it was too late.

When I was too scared to let myself believe that we could ever be together.

As always, though, she knows me too well. Although I've spoken nothing, she understands. She understands everything that is going through my mind, because even though I've let go of the past, there are still certain memories that trigger the guilt for a few brief seconds.

And this is one of those times, even though I know it's not her intention.

"Hey," she says reaching out and taking one of my hands in her own. My eyes shift to her blue ones, and she holds my gaze for a few moments before saying, "Part of the reason I did all of this was because I want you to realize that there are parts of the past that we _can_ remember—the moments that are important to us. The moments that made us laugh and smile, and the moments that brought us joy. Yes, some of those memories may also be linked to sadness, or regrets, or pain, but _that_ is what we need to learn to let go of. Only then can we live in the present while making amends with the past. Because that's what's important—not the pain that we endured in order to get here, but where we are _now_."

And it's not until she is finished speaking that I understand the profound reality of her words.

Because she's right. She _always_ is, even if she has to go through hell to get me to see what I am afraid to admit to myself. To get me to see the truth.

My voice is soft when I answer—even softer than hers had been before, "Thank you, Anna."

And there is an immense amount of depth in that statement; gratitude that speaks for not just what she has shared with me tonight, but for everything she has ever helped me to understand. And whether or not she realizes the entirety of this, I am unsure.

But what I do know is that she has opened my eyes, in so many ways.

What I do know is that letting go is difficult…but worth it. Because we are together, and that is something that I can't take for granted by living in the past.

And I know that I am happy.

 _We_ are happy.

Where we are now.

* * *

 **A/n:** So I've just discovered that it's really, _really_ difficult to write a story with two people who have the same name. Like, insanely difficult. But despite the slight frustration that it caused, I'm pretty happy with the way it turned out. I know it was short, but I feel like making it any longer would have completely contradicted everything that came before it. And speaking of what came before it, writing this has made me realize how much I've missed writing _A State of Grace_. So I'm really glad that I decided to revisit it all in this one-shot!

Regardless, I hope that it tied up most of the loose ends of _A State of Grace_ , and gave a little more insight into their future together.

As always, thanks for reading :)


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